Somebody I Used to Know
by durancedurance
Summary: A quick Mary/Bert oneshot inspired by the song by Gotye.


Somebody I Used to Know

"I just can't do it, I can't keep doing this," she whispered quietly. A soft roll of thunder emphasized her point. As if the heavens knew the storm that was swiftly growing and would swell into a rage inside of her heart.

"But wot are we even doing? We're not even doing anything! That's my point Mary, you can't throw away something we never 'ad," Bert replied, desperately trying not to plead, to remain positive and to stand his ground.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you Bert, I could never give you what you want," Mary practically sobbed. Bert took his weathered hands and put them on her face, lifting it so that she was looking into his eyes.

"All I want is you," he replied simply. How could she not see that? Was she so blind that she was unaware of his true feelings?

"You can't have me," she sighed, defeated. Thunder rolled again in the distance, and tears were beginning to form in Mary's blue eyes. The temperature in the park was swiftly dropping, and Bert knew rain was sure to follow. He couldn't bother with the oncoming storm, he was dealing with one in his own hands.

"That's not fair," Bert said, now angry she would flat out deny him.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you Bert? Life isn't fair," she snitted. She wasn't mad at him, not really, but he wasn't helping by arguing. "You can't have me Bert because _no one_ can have me. The sooner you come to that conclusion the happier we'll both be."

"So you give up then? That's wot this is? You just think that because your life is different that it can't work-"

"I _know _it can't work-"

"I refuse to believe even Mary Poppins has all the answers," Bert sneered. The conversation was quickly turning heated, and even though Bert never meant for it to go this way, he couldn't help but become enraged at the situation and Mary's handling of it. Lightning flashed.

"Believe what you want. It'll never work Bert, so you might as well stop trying."

"So it all means nothing to you?" Bert nearly shouted at her, now distraught. "All the times I waited for you, the 'olidays, the outings, the glances and chaste kisses and crooked smiles. All the dances on rooftops, the moonlit walks, the days off. It was a waste."

"I never meant for this to happen!" Mary shouted back, tears now actually starting to roll down her cheeks. "I didn't mean to fall in love with you, I never meant for you to love me back. I don't want you to have to wait, to miss me, to never quite have me. The days off and rooftop dances aren't enough Bert! That's not a life! That's not love."

"Then we 'ave different ideas of what love is dear," Bert said sadly. Mary's cheeks continued to run with tears, and the two of them felt cold droplets start to pitter patter at their skin and clothes.

"That's why I have to do this," Mary choked out.

"And what is it that you think you 'ave to do then?" Bert asked, suddenly very tired.

"I have to let you go," Mary whispered, the rain now pelting at her face. Her curls clung to her face and her clothes were getting wet, but she didn't care.

"I'll never stop loving you Mary Poppins," Bert replied defiantly.

"That's where you're wrong." Lightning flashed and thunder practically shook the park. Mary quickly closed in the distance to Bert and pulled him by the neck into a passionate kiss. Bert didn't understand what was happening. Hadn't she just declared he couldn't love her? He decided he didn't care, and he continued kissing her until he began losing all sense of time and himself.

Mary's mouth collided with Bert's, her eyes squeezed shut, her hands on his neck. She thought very hard about what she wanted, infusing her perfect lips with desire, and a moment later the deed was done. Their mouths parted, and Bert stood stock-still in the rain, in shock. Mary stepped forward again to place a soft kiss on his wet cheek, whispering an even softer, "Goodbye Bert," into his ear. Bert didn't move, made no response. Mary picked up her wet skirts and fled the park as quickly as her feet could carry her.

"I feel so happy I could die," she sighed. Bert turned his head to look at her. She had her eyes closed, her body relaxed, lying in the grass and flowers. The sunlight came in through the trees at just the right angle, making her skin glow. She looked like an angel. The meadow was quiet, Bert felt warm and happy, and he closed his eyes to take it all in for a moment.

Bert opened his eyes slowly and shivered. His flat had grown cold with the changing weather. After checking the clock on the wall, he stretched in bed and finally got up to start his day. He rubbed his eyes as he made his way to the kitchen, and he set about putting a kettle on for tea. As he searched for a cup and his breakfast tea in the cupboard, he couldn't help but feel as though the dream he'd just had was incredibly important. The fraying edges of it niggled at his memory, and his eyebrows furrowed in concentrated thought.

Who had that woman been? He had to have known her. Why couldn't he remember her? She was gorgeous, that much he knew. He knew her, very well, his brain was telling him. Who was she? They were in an enclosed meadow together, a beautiful place. A beautiful woman...he let the thought go. Whoever she was, it wasn't important anymore. The kettle whistled and Bert made his tea.

The park, though somewhat chilly, was bright and gay. Children played, dogs barked happily, and Bert whistled as he worked on the pavement. Occasionally a couple passing by would drop a coin or two into his hat, and he smiled gratefully. His inpiration today was the dream he had had the night before, and as he worked on the beautiful meadow, he couldn't help but feel that perhaps the dream was actually a memory. One he had long forgotten, but still played in the recesses of his mind. He'd been struggling at recalling certain events for the last year and a half. Bert never bothered with seeing a doctor, so he just figured the things he couldn't remember correctly weren't that important to begin with.

Today however, Bert felt differently. Deep down he knew the dream he had was important, like his mind was telling him an important secret and he couldn't quite understand it. He pondered all of this as he worked, and he was nearly finished with his meadow when he heard quick boots clacking towards him. Assuming someone had come over to admire his work, he continued to work. The admirerer came around to his side, and he noticed a pair of black boots out of the corner of his eye. A coin clinked with others as it fell into his hat beside him, and Bert looked up to thank the stranger.

A beautiful woman with dark hair and the bluest eyes he'd ever seen was gazing intently at his chalk painting of the meadow. Her face was severe, though pleasant, and Bert thought she was thinking rather hard about something. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes, and she continued looking at his handiwork. She never made eye contact with him.

"It's beautiful," she said softly. Her voice was like birdsong. Light and delicate, musical.

"It's from a dream I 'ad. Can't help but feel like I've been there before," Bert said cheerfully. A sad smile appeared on the woman's lips as she studied the painting.

"You have," she replied. She looked up from the meadow to meet his eyes, for only a second, before turning around and clacking away from him again. Bert watched her walk away until he couldn't see her figure anymore. Something inside of him stirred, he was upset she had left so quickly. Suddenly he felt empty. He looked back at the meadow, remembering his dream.

It was her! She was the woman from his dream! But Bert still had no idea who she was, or how he could possibly know her. He'd never seen her before until today. And yet, she had been in his dream. No, he realized, all of his dreams. The more Bert contemplated it, the more he realized. She'd appeared in nearly all of his dreams over the last year. Seeing her in the flesh had flooded his mind with all of the appearances she had made in his dreams. This mystery woman with dark and glittering blue eyes was someone he knew. Somebody he used to know. So why couldn't he remember her?

Mary hurried out of the park before he could come after her. She knew coming over to him had been foolish, but she couldn't stop herself. She hadn't seen him in almost two years, and seeing him working on his chalk drawings in the park was too much to pass up. She had to see him, to be sure he was alright. To see if perhaps he'd changed, if he was happier now. Mary had been shocked to find him drawing the meadow, _their_ meadow, on the pavement. She could recall with clarity the first time she took Bert inside one of his own paintings, the warm sunlight on her face with him lying in the grass beside her.

He had not recognized her, that much she knew, but the fact that he was drawing an intimate place told her that perhaps not all of his memory had been tainted by her kiss. She knew it was probably too much to ask, that his love would perhaps prove too powerful for even _her _magic. But he hadn't said anything, hadn't come after her. It had worked, as best as it possibly could have. So why did she feel so upset that she had been successful so long ago?

"Don't you know all things have a voice," she said airily, her lips curling into a sly smile. "You just have to listen carefully." They walked, arms linked, down the streets of London together. The spring air played at her hair, and her blue eyes twinkled.

"Wot do you mean?" Bert asked jovially.

"Do you hear that sparrow?" she asked, inclining her head to the trees that lined the lane. Bert listened and could hear the faint chirping of a bird above him. They halted below it.

"I hear him," Bert said, confused at what she was getting at. She smiled then turned to look up into the branches. The sparrow chirrupped at her cheerfully.

"He's saying he's so glad the sun is out today, and wants to know if we have any spare crumbs to share," she said, turning back to look at him.

"You made that up!" Bert laughed. Her face grew serious, glaring at him. The sparrow chirped angrily above.

"I did not!" The bird suddenly flew down from his perch and alighted on her shoulder. He chirped quickly and excitedly at her, and she listened intently. "Yes he's a very dear friend of mine, but it's not his fault. He doesn't know me as well as he thinks he does." She turned from the sparrow and winked at him.

"Do you mean to tell me that you can talk to birds?" Bert asked. It did truly seem as if the two of them just had a conversation. The bird hopped on her shoulder to face him and sang loudly at him. "I beg your pardon!" Bert laughed.

"He said, 'Of course she can! She's Mary Poppins!"

Bert sat bolt upright in bed. "Mary Poppins," he whispered. That was her. The woman in all the dreams. The woman he'd seen in the park several months ago. Mary Poppins. The name fit her perfectly, Bert decided. Each dream had become clearer ever since he'd seen her in the park. Something in her eyes, in that flash of a moment when he had locked his with hers, ingnited something within him. He was certain now that these dreams were, in fact, memories. Memories he had somehow locked away. Why would he ever try to forget such a beautiful and enchanting woman? Why had he struggled so to remember Mary Poppins?

Nearly a year had passed since Mary saw Bert in the park, drawing the meadow. She currently had two charges with her, two young girls, and she had promised that on the next sunny day they could go to play in the park. She let them run off into the grass, over by the lake to watch the ducks splash about happily. Content that the girls would be entertained in this spot for a while, Mary made her way over to the nearest bench. As she walked down the path, she managed to miss the lanky man ahead of her, watching her as she made her way to her seat. It wasn't until he was running toward her that she noticed him.

She panicked. Bert had not only spotted her, but he was running towards her. Why else would he take such a pace? She feared the worst. After a moment's hesitation, she stood up to go collect the girls. Perhaps if she scurried out of the park fast enough...too late. As she was walking away, he grabbed her arm.

"Wait," he panted. Mary stopped and turned to face him. He let go of her arm, and for a moment she thought about running again, she realized it was a foolish idea. She waited for him to speak, not wanting to give herself away if it wasn't necessary. "It's you," he said, his breath finally evening out. He stared at her longingly.

"What?"

"It's you," he said again, as if this cleared everything up. "You're Mary Poppins." Mary swallowed hard. He'd remembered her name. She wasn't sure how long he'd known it for, but it wasn't a good sign.

"I'm sorry, I have to go," she said, trying to put conviction in her voice.

"Please," he pleaded, his eyes yearning. "Don't go." Mary continued to run away from him but after just a few strides, his arm caught her again. She sighed and spun around angrily this time to face him.

"What is it?" she asked desperately, every part of her wanting to flee, but all of her wanting for him to never let go of her.

"I'm sorry it's just...why can't I remember you?"

It was a simple question, one she knew the answer to quite well. He looked so desperate, his hand soft on her wrist, and Mary froze.

"I feel as if I should," he continued. "I know that I know you, I just can't seem to..." he trailed off, waiting for her to respond.

"I'm sorry, I can't," she pleaded, pulling her wrist from his grip and scurrying away to find the girls. He didn't chase her down, though part of her wished he would. It felt all too similar to that day in the park so long ago, and Mary struggled to keep her composure as she ushered her charges down the path and out into the lane.

Bert actively attempted to recall who Mary Poppins was, and what she had to do with him, what she had meant to him. He recorded each of his dreams in vivid detail, scoured the papers for any mention of her, turned his flat upside down searching for any scrap of her- a clue that would tell him the answer. He went to the park nearly every day, searching for a glimpse of her. He chased down nearly every dark haired girl in her late twenties, just to be sure. He wasn't sure what to do when she had walked away from him in the park that day a month or so ago, but now he knew. He wouldn't let her leave again until he had answers.

Mary spent the next month in a fog. She kept replaying that afternoon in the park over and over in her head, wondering if she had done the right thing. She knew better, it was as if fate kept pulling them back together, gravitating them towards the very same park, year after year ever since that fateful stormy night. But part of her didn't fight it, and part of her hoped whenever she took a stroll through the park or brought any of her young charges to play that she'd see him, if only for a moment. She had to remind herself why she'd thrown it all away in the first place, and with each new day, the reasons seemed more and more unworthy.

The sun was just beginning to set, and Bert wiped off his face in the twilight. After having finished cleaning the last chimney of the day, he decided that perhaps a nice walk would do him good. Stretching his legs and breathing fresh clean evening air was the sort of thing Bert enjoyed after a long day of honest work. The stars above were only just beginning to be visible, and a cool breeze difted lazily through London. Carrying his brushes over his arm, Bert waltzed his way through the neighborhood, before deciding that he would indeed cut through the park before going home. As of late Bert had stopped coming to the park, deciding that perhaps it was best if he didn't push his luck. After trying so hard to fill a hole in his life, one that he was unsure of how it had appeared in the first place, Bert simply left it up to fate. If he was to be reunited with her, he would be, and this thought left him at ease. The park was empty, save for a nightengale who sang her song from somewhere in the trees, and the sounds of the city began to fade.

Mary alighted in London just as the sun set, and she took a deep breath before setting off. She hadn't been deposited in front of a house, and so for now she was free of her duties, happy to simply be back in the city she called home. She loved this time of night, just as the stars were starting to shine and the stillness of the evening washed over the bustling city. Before going to Uncle Albert's she decided to stretch her legs, her long flight leaving her itching to reconnect with solid ground for a little while. Though she hesitated momentarily, she came upon the park and decided perhaps it would be good to take a stroll through it. She heard a nightengale singing her song, but after a while she heard another voice. Someone was whistling, and it wasn't a bird. The park was beginning to get darker when she saw a figure making its way down the path before her. The cheerful whistling grew louder, and before long she saw that the figure was a tall man, carrying what appeared to be a bundle of chimney sweep's brushes.

Mary's heart began to race. She knew any number of sweeps could be out this time of night, walking through the park. They were all nice fellows she adored, and many could whistle. Something in her told her it was him though, and she picked up her pace to find out.

Bert could see a woman was making towards him, and she was coming fast. He wondered why a woman unchaperoned would still be out this late, but he didn't get the chance to wonder more about this, for he knew exactly who she was. Well, not exactly, but he had an inkling. She stopped a few feet before him, her eyes locked with his, and she stood silently.

"Well if it isn't Mary Poppins," Bert said with a sad smile. "The woman who's been haunting me the last several years."

"Longer than that, I should think," she whispered sadly.

"Well that answers one of me questions then. You remember me perfectly, don't ya?"

"Yes," she breathed. "Perfectly." Bert saw that she was upset, with what he wasn't sure.

"Then why is it I can't remember anything about you?" Bert wondered.

"That's all my fault," Mary sighed, her eyes downcast. She couldn't face him.

"Your fault?" Bert spluttered. "How could it possibly be your fault?"

"You don't remember me well enough to know, but I'm perfectly capable of such an act."

Mary felt as though she was going to cry. How cruel she was, to be like this. She'd never said so out loud until now, but the realization that she could take away something so important from someone she loved dearly was frightening and horrifying. A small sob found its way out of her throat.

"Oh darling," Bert said, seeing how upset the woman before him had become. He set down his brushes on the pavement and put his arms around her. It was an intimate gesture, he knew, but one that felt right. Another sob was muffled into his chest as he held her tight.

"Oh Bert," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for," Bert shrugged.

"Oh but there is," Mary said, looking up from his broad chest and into his eyes.

"I can't remember what awful thing it is you think you've done, so it's alright," he smiled. He had gauged that this intimacy he shared with her was alright, and he wiped a tear from her porcelain cheek. Perhaps he'd known her even better than he thought he did, to be so close to her. It was a shame he didn't remember it at all. As Bert pondered what sort of life he had before, Mary summoned up her courage.

"I have to try..." Mary said, her words hanging before her as she looked up at him. Bert was confused, and he was about to ask her to clarify what she was trying before she took him by surprise. Her lips found his and though Bert was surprised at first, he soon relished the feeling of Mary Poppins in his arms and her lips on his. Eventually Mary pulled away, but she kept her hands on Bert's long arms, holding onto him.

"Nnnng," he groaned, grabbing his forehead. The park was spinning slightly, but after moment Bert shook his head and looked up to find Mary standing in front of him "Mary?"

"Bert?" Mary asked, wary. She bit her lip in anticipation and looked into his eyes with concern.

"You..." he started, but quickly realized he didn't know what to say, where to start. "That day in the park, how could you?" he breathed.

Mary let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Again, it worked. She had accomplished what she wanted. This time, however, she had to deal with the aftermath. "Bert I don't know what to say, just that I'm so sorry."

"You're sorry?" he laughed, incredulous.

"More sorry than anyone could possibly be, I can't even begin to make it up to you-"

"Make it up to me? Mary you made me _forget you_," Bert said, feeling empty.

"I had to Bert! There wasn't any other way-"

"You had to? I didn't even get a say in any of it! I've just spent the last several years going through the motions and trying to remember you. And for what?"

"Bert, we were both miserable! You remember that now. I did what I thought was best. I couldn't let you spend every day wanting me, longing for me, and never ever getting to have me. I wanted you to move on, and I knew the only way you would was if I erased it all," Mary sighed. She wanted so badly for him to understand. She hadn't seen a better option.

"I didn't want to erase you Mary, I'd never want that," Bert said, as if it pained him to tell her, to make it clear for her. "Wot did you think would happen? I'd meet someone new, get married, have a family...without you? Is that wot you wanted Mary?"

"I couldn't leave things the way they were. I couldn't give you those things Bert-"

"I don't want those things Mary! Not if it means giving you up forever," Bert said, a sad smile on his face. "That's what I was trying to tell you that night so long ago in this very park," he said, putting his hand on her cheek.

Mary put her hand over his, pressing her face into the warmth of his palm. "I'm so very sorry Bert. You have no idea."

"I do Mary."

"No. At least you didn't really remember me," she breathed.

"I would have eventually, I was on the way," he chuckled.

"I know Bert. But every time I saw you, it just made it worse. I hoped you were happy without me. I pictured the beautiful wife you had waiting for you at home. The gorgeous children that were on the way. I wanted to take it back, every single time I saw you, but I couldn't do it."

"What changed your mind tonight?" Bert asked, putting his hands around her waist, holding her to him again. Only this time it meant so much more.

"I missed you. You were just somebody I used to know, but it wasn't enough. I was addicted to a certain sadness that came with letting you go, but it became too much. I don't want to live that way. Not anymore," Mary whispered. She was on the verge of tears again, but at least this time she had Bert back. Even if he was too angry to ever try again. "I understand if you don't forgive me," she said sadly, starting to pull away from him.

Bert pulled her tighter when she tried to walk away from him. "You've just got me back, why would you leave me again?"

"But I thought-"

"Haven't you learned Mary, you think you know best, but you're wrong," Bert smiled.

"Oh Bert-"

"Shhh," he smiled, bending down to kiss her softly on the lips. "Promise me you'll never do such a horrible thing ever again."

"I promise Bert, I swear it," Mary chuckled through tears that were slowling sliding down her cheeks.

"That's my girl. Shall I escort you home Mary Poppins?"

"I'd like that Bert," smiled, wiping at her eyes. Bert held out his arm for her to take. He picked up his brushes and threw them over his shoulder, and the two headed out of the starlit park.

"I love you," Mary whispered, leaning her head on Bert's shoulder as they strolled through the dark.

"I love you too Mary Poppins. I'll never forget how much I love you."


End file.
